St. Bridget

Sweet heaven's smile Gleamed o'er the isle, That gems the dreamy sea. One far gone day, And flash'd its ray, More than a thousand years away, Pure Bridget, over thee. White as the snow, That falls below To earth on Christmas night, Thy pure face shone On every one; For Christ's sweet grace thy heart had won To make thy birth-land bright. A cloud hangs o'er Thy Erin's shore -- Ah! God, 'twas always so. Ah! virgin fair Thy heaven pray'r Will help thy people in their care, And save them from their woe. Thou art in light -- They are in light; Thou hast a crown -- they a chain. The very sod, Made theirs by God, Is still by tyrants' footsteps trod; They pray -- but all in vain. Thou! near Christ's throne, Dost hear the moan Of all their hearts that grieve; Ah! virgin sweet, Kneel at His feet, Where angels' hymns thy prayer shall greet, And pray for them this eve.